Eric was ashamed of himself, and hung his head. He ought not to have questioned Lucy's love. Nobody had ever loved him, nobody but Pamela, and she was always bullying him. He ought to have been silent until he had found out for himself what a woman will do for the man she loves. 'It must never happen again, dear old man,' he said, laying his hand affectionately on Edgell's shoulder. 'Remember, you have vowed----' 'I know all that,' Edgell interrupted impatiently. 'Do you think all the vows in the world would hold me back, when--when that accursed thing came upon me? You have never been tried yourself----' 'No, no, no, thank God!' 'You may well thank God. I tell you, if the breaking the oath I have sworn--the oaths I have sworn--I have sworn dozens--hundreds--would lose heaven itself, I should still break it--I should not be able to resist when the temptation came upon me.' 'You are right to mistrust yourself,' Eric said sadly. 'Oh, my dear fellow, if you would only trust Him who is the unfailing Strength of all them that put their trust in Him, and who would be a Strong Tower to you in the face of the enemy!' 'Dear old Wattles!' Edgell said good-humouredly. 'I knew you only wanted an excuse for going on your knees. I'm awfully busy now, old man. I'm going to work till daylight--and--and if the Enemy, as you are pleased to call him, should come--I'll think of Lucy!' He looked past Gwatkin to the blue sky over the roof of the chapel. The sun had all but set, and the vane at the top of the spire had caught the last remnant of fleeting sunshine and rent it in twain. CHAPTER XIX. A STRONG TOWER. 'Weakness to be wroth with weakness.' It was a dreadful time of heartburnings at Newnham through all the next week; not at Newnham only, but all over Cambridge. So many Triposes were on, and the week's interval between the first and second parts of the examination for the Mathematical Tripos was being made the most of by the coming Wranglers and Senior Ops. There were half a dozen girls at Newnham going in for Honours in mathematics, but there was only one that was expected to take a high place--a very high place--among the Wranglers of the year. There would be several Senior and Junior Optimes, but there would be only one Wrangler this year. The hopes of Newnham were set on Pamela Gwatkin, who was expected to do such great things, to win such honour for the women's college. A dark rumour had reached St. John's and Trinity--who like to divide the honours between them--that they were likely to be left behind in the race--far behind. They were uneasy and anxious, though they wouldn't have owned it for the world, for-- 'At times the high gods, who o'er papers preside, Send a lady from Newnham to chasten their pride.'